The Phantom of the Concert Hall?
by PaintedMaiden
Summary: A modern version of the Phantom story: feuding couple Adeline and Daniel go on a date to a concert hall where a mysterious musician happens to be playing.
1. Chapter 1

A sea of people flood the parking lot, some laughing, some arguing, some silent. I've always enjoyed people-watching, but today is different. The more I look around me, the more aware I am of the fact that I am alone. I pull out my phone from the pocket of my sleek, black trench coat to check the time. _It's almost eight… where is he?_ I wonder to myself. I stick my hands back in my pockets, already feeling the biting cold of the mid-December air weaving through my fingers. Great… face is probably red as a tomato. I can't tell if it's from the cold or from embarrassment. Maybe both. I shrink further into my coat as a burst of freezing air rushes over the parking lot. I knew this was a mistake. Daniel and I had just gotten into an argument after I found out about Sarah…  
I shiver. That bitch. No, I shouldn't be angry with her… it isn't fair. He was the one that started things with her. She didn't want to get involved. Right? I don't know anymore. The more I think about it, the more blurred the line of what is true and what is a lie becomes. Still, we've been crazy about each other for over three years. Am I really willing to give that up over a one-time mistake? We'd both been lonely at college, that much is true. Maybe I should cut him some slack. My cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red when I check the time again. That bastard. He probably isn't going to show up at all. I clutch the tickets in my coat pocket. I am just about to check in without him when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, but I don't see anyone. Just my imagination and my nerves getting to me. I turn back around again, and…  
"Boo!"  
"ACK!" I stumble backwards, Daniel grabbing my hand just before I fall.  
"Damn, Addie, I didn't think you'd be that much of a klutz," he chuckles, pulling me towards him.  
"Jesus, Daniel, I hate when you do that!" I say, frustrated. I let him hug me anyway. We stand there like that for a while together, until he gently lets go and gazes down at me from his tall height. "C'mon, hon, you know we're meant for each other. It's just going to hurt us both to stay apart."  
"I don't know," I mumble, looking down at my feet. He brings my chin back up to let my eyes meet his. I try to say something more, but I can't make the words leave my mouth. He's right. I don't want to end things. "Let's go inside," I say finally, walking towards the entrance with his hand still clasping firmly on to mine.  
"Good evening," the clerk behind the counter says when we reach the check-in aisle. The warmth tickles my lips as I greet him in return. I hand the tickets, to which he makes a funny face. "I'm sorry miss, but where did you purchase these?"  
"Oh, I bought them online," I respond, leaning over the counter to point out the verification at the bottom of the page. "I called a few weeks back, and they said they'd accept online reservations."  
"I think you're mistaken," the man says back, not unkindly.  
"Christ," Daniel groans.  
"A-are you sure?"  
"Adeline, what the hell? I thought you said you had it under control!" Daniel grabs my arm. I pull softly, but he doesn't let go.  
"If it's a mistake, then I can always pay for the tickets now," I tell the clerk nervously.  
"Just a moment," he responds, glancing at Daniel and back at me. "I'll run it through the system to make sure it's valid for you."

I nod. "Thank you," I say quietly.  
"I should've known you'd screw this up," Daniel hisses. I turn to him, ready to fire back, but his glare shuts me right up. I direct my attention back to the check-in counter.  
"That's my fault," the clerk says when he returns to his spot. "I wasn't aware we'd adjusted the system to include online registration."  
"That's totally okay," I say back.  
"Maybe I'm a bit behind on technology," the clerk jokes. I giggle back, and I feel Daniel's grip on me loosen. The clerk hands both of us a program. "Enjoy the show," he smiles. He shifts his gaze to Daniel, and I can't help thinking that for a brief second I'd seen anger in his eyes.  
The two of us enter the performance room, which is a giant, ornate dome with artwork painted skillfully across the ceiling. Balconies rest just above us, and I wonder to myself what the view is like from way up there. I find myself in awe of the place, getting caught up in the beauty of the scene despite myself. Daniel tugs at my arm and whispers for me to come with him. I come back down to earth and walk beside him. We'd gotten pretty decent seats, despite my miserable bank account. Oh well, I'd had to pay for textbooks up at school somehow.  
"We still have a few minutes before it starts," Daniel says once we get comfortable in our seats. "Why don't we look to see who's playing?"  
"Okay." I flip open the program, skipping past the long list of people responsible for "making tonight happen." I find the page marked "soloists," but there is only one name marked. Strange. I lean over and point it out to Daniel. "What do you think that means?" I ask.  
"Uh, 'Phantom'? I don't know. Must be a stage name or something. He probably doesn't suck if he's the only one performing."  
"Huh. Kinda cool," I comment.  
"Kinda stupid, if you ask me."  
"Come on, act more excited," I joke, elbowing him. He looks at me with an annoyed expression at first, then smiles and squeezes my hand.  
"As long as you're here, I don't know how I wouldn't have a good time."  
"You're such a dork," I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. Everything just seems so natural with him. Even though I haven't let him know my answer about whether or not I agree to try again, I can't help but feel like my mind is already made up. Before I can think about it anymore, the lights dim slightly. The crowd claps, and Daniel and I join them. The applause stops when the curtain draws back to reveal a man in a black suit poised elegantly over a large, grand piano. A stark white mask covers one side of his face, and only when he turns slightly towards the audience can the human side be seen. He scans the crowd in a way vaguely like an animal surveying his prey. His eyes fall on me suddenly, for just a moment. I breathe in sharply. Without noticing, I squeeze Daniel's hand tighter.  
There is no introduction, no explanation before the man rests his hands on the keys and begins to play. As soon as he strikes the first note, the atmosphere in the room changes. The air moves more lightly as the silence around us is replaced with a sweet, floating melody. It is both tender and troubled, kind and caustic, loving and hateful. His hands become one with the instrument, moving as if this was their sole purpose. The music fills my head, dances through my veins, flutters in the pit of my stomach. My heart races with every chord. I don't have to look around me to know that the audience can feel it, too. We all lose ourselves in his music.  
An indeterminate amount of time later, he stops playing. We come back from wherever it had taken us, returning to our bodies again. It couldn't have been more than five minutes, could it? The man stands, and we immediately shower him with applause. Before I know what I am doing, I stand and clap with the rest of the crowd. The man's eyes dart to mine, and I stare back. I am vaguely aware of the rest of the room standing as well. The man does not seem to notice, either. He holds my gaze, then grins slightly before turning and exiting the stage. I stop applauding, but I can't move from my place. It's like I am hypnotized.  
"Not half bad," Daniel says, snapping me out of my daze.  
"Yeah, he really knew what he was doing, huh?" I breathe. I try to collect myself enough to turn and smile at him. "Whew. All right. Should we go?"  
"Okay. I'll follow you back to your place."  
"Yeah," I say, too distracted to protest. "I'm going to run to the bathroom first, okay?"  
"Right, I'll wait for you outside."  
I nod and walk through the thinning crowd to the restrooms.


	2. Chapter 2

I hum to myself as I walk outside, lost in my own head and the music still ringing in my ears. I wander the building in search of a bathroom, but I can't find a single one. I consider turning back to ask for help, but when I do, I realize that I can't see anyone. Crap, they probably already left. I'd better hurry, or Daniel is going to be pissed. I pick up the speed of my walking, my black heels clicking the tile below me and my tutu-like black dress bouncing with my steps. I skip to the time of the tune I still can't get out of my head, laughing at my own foolishness. Good thing no one can see how childlike I look right about now. Finally, after what seems like too long, I find the women's bathroom. "Phew," I breathe, walking inside. I dash in front of the mirror, determined to make Daniel's jaw drop when I come back.

"Stop it," I tell my reflection. "You broke up with him. Why should you care what he thinks of how you look?"

I drum my fingers on the sink in front of me. "Goddammit, you're such an idiot." I bang my head against my palm and try to snap out of it. Whatever happens, happens. I turn on the faucet and splash some cool water on my face before ducking out of the bathroom. Halfway through the hallway, I am stopped by the sound of music. I pause and listen, recognizing the melody as one of the tunes that I'd just heard during the concert. Without even thinking about it, I follow the tune. As I weave through the corridors, the music gets louder and louder. After a minute, I find its source: a narrow, wooden door with a glowing, golden doorknob. I rest my hand on the knob, hesitating a bit. I take a deep breath and open the door, and just as I do, the music abruptly stops. I feel around for a light switch, and a series of electric candles flicker on above me.

"Whoa." In the middle of the room, illuminated by the yellow-orange flickering light is a grand piano similar to the one the man had played earlier. I walk up to it and run my hand gently along the flat, smooth surface at its back. I make my way to the keys, tapping one lightly. I tap another. I take a quick look around, for the first time wondering if I should actually be in this room. _Another minute, and I'll leave_ , I tell myself. There is no way that I am passing up playing this gorgeous piano. I've always loved to play, but never in my life have I seen a piano this elegant up close. I'd be stupid not to try it out. I smooth my dress flat against the back of my thighs before sitting down; a habit my mother had always vehemently enforced. I had to be a "lady," after all. If only I could be. Piano often seemed too elegant for me, like I am not worthy to wield such a beautiful instrument. The two of us are perfectly different: I am rough, edgy, dark… but the piano… everything about it screams royalty. I suppose opposites attract, in the case of our strange love.

I run my hands delicately across the keys, as if to greet the instrument. I pluck one note silently. I play a chord just a bit louder. Then, as it always seems to do, a tune bursts out of me in a series of frantic, random notes. Sometimes the piece is one I have heard before, other times an improvisation. This one was the latter. Still, tonight, my playing is more empowered. My usual hesitance floats away as my fingers dance on the keys. The melody is complex, and my hands nearly freeze up with how surprised I am that _I_ am playing this music. I'd never played like this before. It is… hypnotizing. I feel myself go to another place, until I seem to be floating above the piano.

That is when the lights go out. I freeze, my mind acting like a punch in the face as I abruptly come back to my senses. My heart pounds nervously. I can't see an inch in front of my face.

"He… Hello?" I stutter to no one. The power probably just went out. Still, why do I get the uneasy feeling that I am being watched? "Is anyone in here? Please say something."

"Shh." I jump, and in my surprise hit my knee on the piano. I bite my tongue in pain.

"I didn't know, please –"

"Quiet, or they'll hear you," a man's gentle, yet slightly raspy voice warns me. My stomach ties itself in knots as I prepare myself for the worst. What is he going to do to me…? Either way, I do what he says. I really don't have any other option. After what feels like hours, the voice calls out to me.

"All right. We should be fine now. Can you see enough to stand?"

"Yes," I breathe. "I think so." I clumsily get to my feet and try to shuffle back from my position at the piano, hitting the bench repeatedly in the process. I notice during my frenzied attempts to get away that I am hyperventilating. I feel my chest crush my lungs slowly and painfully. My eyes get heavy.

A hand suddenly clasps mine, startling me. A shriek catches in my throat and turns into a squeak.

"Don't be afraid." The man again. He is in front of me. I panic even more, until I realize that he is guiding me through the room to the door. "Just a bit further," he reassures me. The room might as well have tripled in size. Finally, I hear the knob turn. Light floods into the room, but it isn't bright enough to allow me to see the man's face. "Come with me," the man says. "If they find you now, it won't be pleasant." I nod, and he continues to lead me out of the room. The hallway is lit with electric candles mounted to the wall here and there, but all other lights have been turned off. How long was I in that room? Did everyone leave?

 _Daniel._ I inhale sharply. I wonder if he left, too?

And this man… who is he? I try to get another look at him, but it is still too poorly lit to get my bearings. Against my better judgment, I continue to follow him. He makes me feel strangely at ease, despite his unexplainable, haunting presence.

"Where are we going?" I whisper as quietly and distinctly as I can. He doesn't respond. I open my mouth to ask if he heard me, but I think against it. He did say that we don't want to get caught… even so, I don't like the suspense.

We reach a large pair of ornate wooden doors, each with its own gold-tinted doorknob. The man pulls out a large key and inserts it in the lock while I stand behind him. He opens the doors and takes my hand, leading me inside. His grip is firm, yet gentle at the same time. My heart flutters, and I scold it silently. Only then do I notice the room around me. I gasp.

The space in front of me is much vaster than I'd expected, so much so that I can't see where the room ends. All four walls are made of stone, each one carefully and methodically placed. Where the walls end, stone-tile floors begin, each tile a different shade of grey and brown. Every and any space in the room that could possibly fit a candle welcomes two candles into its territory. Despite this, the room isn't overwhelmingly bright. In fact, darkness still leaks in every so often from different places that don't occupy a candle. I spot a piano on a far end of the room, one somehow even more gorgeous than the one I'd been playing. I walk over to it, stepping lightly over scattered sheet music as I go. I gape at the complexity of the melodies scribbled on them. I barely notice that the man has been silently watching me snoop around. I decide that I should at least ask him more about what is going on.

 _Whoa. Why am I here? Why did I go with him?_ Anxiety crowds my head and eats away at me the second I realize I've let my guard down.

He is behind me. Do I dare turn around? I figure I'll have to at some point. So I do.

In front of me stands a tall, dark-haired man. He is dressed in a black suit and armed with piercing brown eyes that both swim in darkness and dance in light… adorned with a mask on one side of his face. _The pianist_.

He draws near to me slowly. I stay glued to the spot, my mind both screaming at me to move and urging me to stay. My heart beats out of my chest.

He comes so close that I can feel his breath, gazing down at me from our sizable difference in height. I level my face with his. I can't tell if I mean it as a challenge or an invitation. We stand there like that as we let the time fly away. Finally, he takes a step back and bows.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he says. "My managers are very strict about people wandering the concert hall."

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry… I uh…" Of course, the only time I need to explain myself, I can't seem to form a coherent sentence. The man holds up his hand.

"No, no, it's all right. It's only natural for you to want to explore."

"Who are you?" I ask.

"Ah, no one important enough for a name," he responds. "Here, they call me the 'angel of music.' I think it's ridiculous and pretentious, but it's what I have. Still, it doesn't matter. Call me what you like, and I will answer." He looks me over intently before asking, "And what is your name?"

"Adeline," I say back. "Again, I'm sorry for going where I shouldn't have…"

The "angel" raises an eyebrow. "You are a musician as well?" I shrug timidly.

"I play as best I can," I say, chewing absentmindedly at my thumbnail; a nervous habit. "I'm not professionally taught. I'm, ah –" I sigh, "'amateurly professionally trained.' I taught myself to play, so no, most people in music don't consider me an actual musician."

"If you have the strength to train an instrument to follow your command, then you are a musician by all means," he replies pointedly. I nod.

"Good point."

There is a moment of silence between us, neither one knowing what to say.

"How should I go about getting home?" I blurt out. I regret saying it immediately. "I'm sorry, that sounded rude…"

"No, I understand," the angel smiles. "I'd ask the same thing if I were in your shoes." He frowns. "Unfortunately, I don't think that trying to leave here without my managers seeing you would be entirely possible."

I look at him, stunned. "Are you saying I have to stay here? My parents don't even know why I'm out past curfew! My boyfr–" I cut myself off. "…my friend will be worrying about me."

"I really am sorry, Adeline. I know it's not the perfect scenario, but I'll try my best to make it less worrisome for you. Tomorrow just before the show, the staff will be distracted and I will be able to lead you outside. This late at night, the guards tend to be more skittish."

The word _guards_ sticks out to me like a sore thumb.

"All right," I say reluctantly. "Can I just call my parents and my friend to let them know I'm all right?"

"Of course. Go ahead." The man nods and walks just far enough away to give me privacy enough to make a call. I dial my mother's number, and as usual, I am met with her voicemail.

"Hi, mom," I say when the answer tone beeps. "It's me. The show ran late, so I'm crashing at Vita's tonight," I say, concocting an excuse. Vita is my good friend and lives close by, so it would make sense. Hopefully. "Just didn't want you to wonder where I was. Okay. Bye." I hang up. Next, I call Daniel. He answers on the third ring.

"Heeey, Addie!" he says. "What's goin' on?"

"Daniel. Hey. Something happened with security when I left, so I got held up."

"Ooooh, yeah, that," he laughs, slurring his words. I can hear people in the background yelling and laughing excitedly.

"Daniel," I say a little louder, "Where are you?"

"Ha, no way! I've only had, like, four beers," he says, his voice getting farther away as he addresses someone else.

"Where are you?" I say, getting irritated.

"Well, Trevor said he was having a thing, and I figured since you were taking so long, you'd be cool with it."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Ugh, I knew you'd be all uptight about this!" Daniel yells, the sluggishness in his voice stifling any hint of anger. I know for a fact that he's wasted.

"I'm not. Just don't worry about me, that's all."

I hang up. A person can only take so much of Daniel when he's drunk. Some of that's just Daniel anyway, though… I groan. _Is he the jerk, or am I?_ The little voice of doubt that always rears its ugly head when I'm near Daniel makes her gracious appearance. Usually I'd indulge her and overanalyze until I feel sick. This time, I shut her out.

I turn and start walking towards the man, tears beginning their journey down my cheeks. I make it another five steps before the exhaustion and stress gets to be too much, and I pass out.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up to the sound of piano keys being softly played. I glance around the room, and a black, translucent curtain greets me from all sides. I rub my eyes, feeling myself leave my sleep farther and farther behind. _Was there a bed here?_ I think to myself, only just now noticing the soft mattress below me. The covers feel smooth like silk. The familiar sense of my not being quite fancy enough for this place settles over me. The music continues, lifting me gently from the bed and slowly leading me towards the sound.

The music continues, lifting me gently from the bed and slowly leading me towards the sound despite my worry. This song is different than the types I'd heard before in a way I can't exactly describe. It's like... reaching out for something you so desperately want, never really getting all the way there but reveling in the thrill it gives you.

Love?

 _No,_ I respond to the thought that had come out of nowhere. I don't know if I believe that last response. Whatever it is, it's giving me goosebumps.

I continue following towards the source of the music. Once I am close enough, I can see the angel behind the piano. It's not like I was expecting anyone else, but my breath hitches in my chest anyway. I walk over to him, trying as best I can not to disturb him too much. He notices me right away anyway. His hands linger on the piano keys as he glances up at me.

"Hello, Adeline," he says when his eyes meet mine.

"Hi," I reply.

"I trust you slept well?" he asks, shuffling some papers on the music stand in front of him. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Slept like a baby," I say. "Um... where did you sleep?"

"I didn't," he answers nonchalantly. "Keeping up with the concert hall and the music and the composition... it doesn't exactly leave me much time for other things."

"I'm another thing," I point out. "You had time to be kind to me."

He smirks. "Well, yes. That is one exception."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," he says. I see his eyes darken ever so slightly, but seconds later, his charming and friendly look comes back. He scoots over on the bench, patting the space next to him. I take it without thinking twice. My right arm brushes his left, and I feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"Now, I know I heard a bit of your musical talent before," he grins.

"Oh, I couldn't," I stutter.

"You know you could," he says. He nudges me gently with his elbow. "Go on."

I nod, taking a deep breath. I rest my hands on the black and white keys, glancing at the man again, hoping he'll change his mind. He smiles lightly back at me.

"Go ahead."

"Right," I sigh. Warmth still radiates from the keys, pairing with the warmth of the side of his body against mine. In a jolt of electricity, my fingers move to play as if all on their own. The smooth, slow tune that results surprises me, but not enough to make me stop. I let the music flow through me instead, my breath rising and falling with the rhythm of the song. The familiar out-of-body experience returns, as it usually does when I play the piano. I watch myself from above myself. I sway back and forth, my head lowered slightly and my eyes half-closed. The man is still next to me... and I watch him bring his lips to the nape of my neck.

"Whoa!" I gasp, jumping back and almost falling over.

"Adeline, are you all right?" he says worriedly, quickly pressing his hand on the small of my back to keep me from tumbling backward. His touch sends one quick, miniature shiver through the rest of my spine.

"Yeah," I say breathlessly. I absentmindedly raise my fingertips to my neck, the daydream still fresh in my mind. He hadn't done anything after all. Still... why do I wish that he had? "I'm sorry," I add. "I'm still a little skittish after yesterday, that's all."

"Understandable." He draws his hand away slowly. "Well, we do have plenty of time before the show begins tonight."

"Are you sure you won't get in trouble for this?" I ask, sounding more concerned than I'd intended.

"No," he grins. "But what's the fun in anything if there's no risk of being caught?"

"You should write screenplays for action movies," I say jokingly. "You'd give those big-shot directors a run for their money."

"Only if you agree to be my business partner," he banters back.

"You'd never run out of snarky commentary, that's for sure."

He laughs at this, prompting me to laugh along with him. After a while, the schoolgirl giggling settles down, and I again become aware of the furious pounding of my heart against my ribcage. I glance at the man and immediately shift my gaze when I see that he is staring right back at me. His hand gently closes around mine, forcing my eyes to find their way to his again. He has a mischievous, yet genuinely content look on his face.

"Come on, Adeline," he says, leading me towards the door. "I won't watch you spend the whole day cooped up in here."

I follow him without any hesitation this time. "Sounds like a plan," I reply, smiling to myself. Daniel floats his way into my mind, and I immediately push him away.

It feels good to be treated like I matter just as much as anyone else for once. For the first time in a while, I do not feel out of place.

"I want to show you something," the man says.

"Wait, isn't the whole point of me being here so no one sees me?" I ask doubtfully.

"No one will."

Just before we reach the door, he makes a sharp left. All at once, the space surrounding us darkens and a cool breeze weaves through. I can't see a thing, left with only the presence just ahead of me as a guide. The only sounds to be heard are the muffled shuffling of our footsteps and the occasional drip-dripping of water somewhere.

"Where are we?" I question him, breaking the silence.

"We're almost there," he responds through the blackness. "You'll know it when you see it."

"I can't see anything," I point out. He laughs in reply, sending a warm tingling down my spine.

"We're here."

With this, a rush of cool air hits me and my eyes start adjusting to the lit room we've just entered. When I am able to see clearly, I gasp at the sight in front of me. The entirety of the large, open space we stand in is water. A gigantic, infinite-seeming lake. The two of us wade ankle-deep into the clear, slightly cold water as the man smiles at me, entertained by my dumbfounded expression. As if the room couldn't seem like more of a scene right out of a movie, he begins untying a small, wooden rowboat from its spot next to the dock I've just noticed we'd been walking on before. He turns to me again, motioning for me to take his hand. I do, and he steadies me as I climb into the boat. He climbs in behind me, grabbing a large oar from the dock and sending us out farther into the lake. I can barely concentrate. I can't figure out if it is due to my amazement with the room or how aware I am of his closeness yet again. I take a few quiet deep breaths to calm myself down. It's enough to keep me from passing out but not enough to slow my heart rate. After a few minutes, we approach another dock similar to the last, except much smaller. The man steps out of the boat, taking my hand again to steady me as I clumsily step onto the dock.

"Close your eyes," he whispers, his lips softly grazing my ear. I obey. The man leads me forward, and I can't help but feel tempted to open my eyes again. Still, somehow, I keep them closed until I hear him say, "Okay, now open them."

Right in front of me lies the entirety of the surrounding city, which at this point has become quiet with the timid, first hours of morning. We stand on a marble balcony, and when we take a few steps forward, we are able to rest our arms on the railing and gaze out at the city.

"Wow," I say, so surprised and out of breath that the word barely comes out of my mouth.

"I thought you might like it," the man says.

"It's beautiful."

"This is where I go when I need a break from the concert hall." I glance at him as his eyes transfix themselves on the scenery.

"When was the last time you left?" I ask. "I don't know why you wouldn't if you get bored just being stuck in here."

"It's not that simple." He looks at me, keeping the same soft, contemplative expression on his face.

"Why not?" I ask, unintentionally raising my voice just a bit. Is it his nonchalant attitude about being stuck in this place for no reason that bothers me or the fact that he won't explain? I can't tell.

"It isn't something you need to be worried about." His hand grasps mine tightly as he turns to face me. He is so close... why is he always so close? And why don't I mind it?

"Why not?" I say it more gently this time, an unspoken apology. He takes a deep breath, never taking his eyes away from mine.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asks. I nod.

In a slow, nervous motion, the man guides my hand to the masked portion of his face. My fingertips slip under the sides that rest against his cheek. I look at him as if to say, "Are you sure?" He responds with a slight nod.

Timidly, I pull the mask off, seeing the face of the angel for the first time.


	4. Chapter 4

I shriek, the mask landing on the floor with a soft clatter as my hands release it in surprise. The entire left side of his face is littered with prominent, uncaring burns. My hand flies to my mouth, sparing him from whatever reaction may escape from it. The man's face contorts into a pained grimace as he turns away from me, steadying himself on the balcony's railing.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm sorry." He falls to the ground, repeating the phrase over and over again as if it would never be enough. I feel my eyes welling up with tears. _He thinks I'm disgusted,_ I think to myself. It wouldn't be a lie... but I'm not disgusted by him at all. I'm disgusted at the situation. How could anyone do this? How could anyone live with this? I can't help but pity him, a godlike and stoic man reduced to a heap of self-hatred and sadness. It makes me even more emotional and even more upset for him. I crouch on the ground and move closer to him, like someone attempting to approach an animal without frightening it.

"Don't apologize," I reply softly. He shuffles away, pressing his back as hard as he can against the railing. I continue towards him.

"Don't look at me!" he cries out. I stop. In his voice, I hear a change. His smooth, clear speech has become gravelly and harsh, and his steady volume has heightened. Still, I don't back away. I want to tell him that everything is all right, that a face is just a face. But when I reach him and his bloodshot, tear-filled eyes meet mine, I am rendered mute. Instead, I take his hand in mine again, intertwining my fingers with his and caressing the back of his hand with my thumb. He presses back against my grip, clutching my hand tighter. I smile gently at him reassuringly. Then - and I cannot tell whether prompted by my own intentions or on its own - my other hand lifts slowly towards the scarred portion of the man's face. He winces, noticing the change, but doesn't cower away like he had before. My hand finally reaches his leathered, delicate skin, cautiously running it over his skin and calming his distorted features. I feel the wetness of his tears as they pass through my touch. My own tears run down my face as the two of us stare at each other. I draw my face closer, resting my forehead on his. Our noses touch softly, the contrast between weathered and soft skin filling the space between us with electricity. I can't help but yearn to be even closer to him.

"I need to tell you..." the man says softly. His voice is back to its normal composure, but it is more timid than usual. I nod in reply. He reaches for the mask that still rests on the ground, moving his face away from mine as he brings the mask back to its normal place. "You must know by now that you aren't safe here."

"I'm all right," I reassure him.

"No, you aren't." He grabs my hands tightly, a little too tightly. I wince, and he eases up. "I can't let you suffer the way I have."

"You aren't safe here either," I insist. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

The man remains silent, but we both know his answer.

"Come with me," I urge him. "You don't want me to be in danger, I know, but I don't want you to be, either."

"I can't go back out into the world," he says. "They fear me. I repulse them. What kind of life would that be? To be hated?"

"I don't hate you," I declare without any hesitation. "The spectators that come to your shows don't hate you."

"They don't know me!" The man raises his voice. "They... they know a mysterious musician that they can use to entertain them. They don't know _me._ "

"It's okay to let them in," I say. "Not everyone is heartless and cold. There is always someone who will accept you."

"How can you sound so sure?" he asks. "Besides, even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't."

"If you can get me out, it shouldn't be so hard for you to do the same for yourself, right?"

"They would come after me, bring me back, hurt anyone who stood in their way."

"Who are 'they'?"

The man's eyes widen at my question. The air changes, becoming one with his apparent melancholy.

"The real masters of this hall," he replies finally. "My music belongs to them, and them alone. There is nothing I can do."

"Of course there is!" I argue. "You can still leave."

"It isn't all bad," he says, trying to put me at ease with a smile. My jaw is set firm and his smile wavers. "This is all I know. Since I was a child, this has been my home. I was raised here, learned to play here, and I couldn't imagine my life without my music. And since I can't imagine my life without music... I suppose I can't imagine one without them, either."

"You don't really feel that way though, do you?" I ask. He opens his mouth to reply but shuts it again after a moment. I continue. "You aren't doing this for the music. You're doing it to appease them."

"And why should I need to to do that?"

"Because..." I hesitate. "Because I think you are actually afraid of them."

The looks to me quickly with a fire in his eyes that was not there before. "Afraid?" he scoffs. "Don't be stupid."

"No," I say adamantly. He looks surprised by my sudden confidence in my own accusations. He lets me speak. "You're lying again."

He looks down at the ground, shame clear on his face. I rest my hand on the masked portion, my fingertips feeling the soft brush of his dark hair. "It's okay to be afraid."

"I can't afford to be," he says, putting his hand over mine and interlocking our fingers. "If I let myself feel fear, then living itself becomes unbearable." Even while he speaks to me, his eyes never leave the ground.

All at once, I realize. Even still, I don't want to believe it. It can't be true. I feel anger well up inside me at the suspicion that has entered my mind.

"Tell me..." I say, putting my other hand on the other side of his face and lifting his head until his gaze rests level with mine. "How were you hurt?"

He looks at me, first in shock and then with a cold stare. "You are treading on thin ice, Adeline."

"I'm sorry if I upset you. But I need to know. I want to do something to help."

"There's nothing you can do!" He argues forcefully.

"I don't believe that," I say. "Even if you say there is no chance, nothing you say will stop me from trying."

"If you insist." The man stands suddenly, looking down at me with an expressionless stare. "I refuse to stand by and watch." He begins to walk away.

"Hey!" I yell after him, getting up and running towards him. I grab his arm and try to pull him back, to which he attempts to jerk it away. Somewhere in the struggle, I feel something hard hit my forehead. "Ah," I murmur, stumbling backward and falling on my knees. My ears start ringing, canceling out all noise around me except for the man's worried, pleading voice."

"Adeline!"

"I'm... sorry... mean... hurt you..."

I am only able to pick up broken fragments. Between the pain and the confusion of my consciousness slipping away, I reach towards him and tiredly ask him one more question:

"They... did that... to you... didn't they? I'm... sorry..."

Then the world turns black.


	5. Chapter 5

(Sorry for the long break in writing! College has been crazy busy. However! I am back and ready to go :p)

 _Where am I?_ I wonder hazily. _Come on, Adeline, what's the last thing you remember?_

In a rapid flurry, my memories come back to me. My eyes flutter open as my heart beats out of my chest. I am back in the room where I was brought the first night. I jump when I feel a rough hand caress mine.

"Hush." The angel's voice soothes me from my panic. "Nothing worse than waking up in an unfamiliar place," he says, reading my mind.

"You'd think I'd be used to it now," I reply. The silence between us only grows after I speak. After a moment, he returns to the conversation.

"I'm… I can't say how sorry I am."

"You don't have to," I assure him. "You didn't mean to do it."

"No, that's not it." He looks away, guarding against my ability to see the vulnerability in his eyes. "I shouldn't have been so curt with you. About what happened to me, I mean to say. If your curiosity requires it, I should be happy to engage your interests. After all, I haven't had a decent companion to speak with in years."

"If it's too uncomfortable, I wouldn't make you relive it," I say. I give his hand a short squeeze. He looks at me, and I can see he's made up his mind.

"A long while ago, back maybe fifteen years, I was adopted by the owner of this concert hall. She raised me as her own, and for that, I can harbor no ill will. However…" he pauses, taking a deep breath. "… there was someone that came before me. The image and person I was expected to emulate. I, not being the man he was, couldn't measure up. So, the only way that my teacher could see to lift me up was to have me scratch my way up from below.

"This man, you see, was also malformed. His face, just as mine, was scarred terribly, only his was brought on by birth. Some even called him the devil's child as a result. I suppose my master thought that if I could look like him, that would be enough. The music, that didn't matter as much in the end as recreating the scene of so many years ago did."

"I don't understand," I tell him. "Who is your teacher? And why do they care so much about you looking like this man?"

The angel pauses, glancing in every direction as if to make sure no one could be listening in. "This master," he says finally, "inherited her great-great-grandmother's career. Not only was her ancestor the manager of a successful opera house, but she served the man I mentioned. My master, though she lives under a new name, is of the Giry family."

"Giry?" I ask. "Wait, I think I've heard of her…"

"You probably have. The ordeal of the Phantom of the Opera was _the_ scandal of its time across Europe. Now, the Madame has become obsessed with recreating the story."

"What do you mean 'story'?" I ask, now more confused than ever. "I thought that was just a rumor!"

"It was made out to be, yes," he explains. "A plot meant only to draw attention to the theatre scene. But it was all true, believe me. I had my doubts initially. Supposedly, the Phantom trained a young orphan taken to live in the opera house, the Palais Garnier. There, he fell in love with her and pursued her all while murdering those patrons who did not comply with his rules of how the opera house was to be run."

"So what does this mean for you?" I ask. "You say she wants to recreate the Phantom of the Opera thing, but as far as I can tell, you aren't a murderer."

"No. At least, not yet. You're missing the first part of the equation."

I hesitate, thinking of the meaning behind his words.

"Adeline…" he says, looking at me with regretful eyes, "I was sent to kidnap you."

I freeze, finally understanding. This was no coincidence. Our meeting was planned, and I can only guess that the blackout was, too.

"So what am I supposed to be? Just a part of her crazy fantasy!?" I yell, getting more overwhelmed by the second.

"Originally, yes," he replies. "But I've made up my mind. I'm ending this plan of hers tonight. I never thought I would go against her, even when she came to me with the idea. But I can't go through with it. I am no more her puppet than you are, and if I have a chance to set you free, then I am going to take advantage of it."

I take a moment, mulling over all of what I've been told. Am I supposed to believe all this? Then again, what other explanation is there?

"I'm sorry, Adeline. I know it all sounds awful and I don't blame you if you're angry with me. I just need you to know... I was selfish, and because of it I put you in danger." He lowers his head, embarrassed to look me in the eye. "The plan was that I was to single out a girl, just one, and kidnap her. I'd intended full well to abandon the scheme completely, but..." he stops for a moment, unable to continue.

"Please," I say, "It isn't your fault. You were forced into it."

"No, you don't understand." He lifts his eyes, just for a moment, before averting them again. "I could have chosen anyone. Someone who deserved it, or someone who was with family or friends who would investigate and hopefully locate this place." The angel takes a few small steps closer to me. I am powerless to the pull he has on me, and with every inch between us he closes, I can feel my chest expand with the fullness of my emotion. He is so close now that I can feel the heat between our bodies.

"Then I saw you. I felt something that I thought was not only lost to me but had never existed at all." His hand gently rests on my cheek as he gently trails the line of my jaw with his fingertips. I shiver slightly, but I am not afraid. My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds and I lose myself in the sensation of his touch. "You captivated me almost instantly," he continues softly. "It was you I needed with me. It was all that I wanted, and I ached with the thought that I might never see you again. I wanted you more than reason could understand."

Only with his last words do I realize that I'd been unknowingly been moving closer to him, so close that I could almost feel each syllable on my own lips. I can't stop myself, but I can't make myself care. He is so close now, but even the centimeters between us feel too far. All at once, I know what he means. How he feels. It washes over me in whispers, as if his voice were the only thing keeping me afloat. It's like... yes, it's almost like it's singing. He turns me around gently in his arms, and I have no power to resist. Why would I want to? His hands trail over me without partiality, running along my arms, my hips, my stomach, my neck. I melt into his touch. A small gasp escapes me as his lips brush against my neck. It's intoxicating.

That's why neither of us hears the footsteps approaching.


End file.
